


Will

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asylum, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Mutism, Mystery, Mystery Stories, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: A new patient arrives at the hospital for the mentally ill. Faced with lack of cooperation and little information about the man, doctor Chilton calls for help another psychiatrist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is going to be wrong on many levels...  
> You've been warned!

The red light above the door was turned off and the green one was turned on, instead. The door was pulled by an orderly for the doctor to come inside. It was shut directly behind the man.

The room, one of many and exactly like all of them, was white. The floor was tiled, the walls were painted. There was one window, opposite the door, with bars in it so that a patient could not escape or attempt suicide by jumping out of it. There was a single bed by the wall on the right, equally far from the window and the door. There were also two chairs, if a patient was stable enough to have visitors in their room or for the doctors to have a seat.

In the far corner, behind the bed so that no one would notice at the first glance, there was a man. He was sitting on the floor, with his legs bent and pressed closely to his chest, with arms around them. He was facing the window so it was not easy to see his face, but even from the profile one could tell that he was a handsome man. His brown curly hair was long enough to fall on his forehead and cover his eyes and ears. He had a stubble and a funny-shaped nose. It looked as if it might have been broken in the past. The man was wearing a white, long-sleeved jumper and a pair of striped pyjama pants. He seemed to be deeply lost in thought, utterly absent from the real world.

“Hello, Will. I’m doctor Lecter. I’ll be the one taking care of you now apart from doctor Chilton.”

The man remained silent. His eyes were unfocused but his face was turned towards the window.

“Here. Take this,” the doctor outstretched his arm holding two folded blankets. “You shouldn’t be sitting directly on the floor for so long. You’re going to catch a cold.”

The man blinked, regaining focus in his eyes. He didn’t move, didn’t as much as twitch. Doctor Lecter sat on the floor next to his patient, blankets on his knees.

“I hear you’re not sleeping or eating. You made it very difficult to take your pulse and you won’t allow to test your blood,” the doctor spoke slowly in a low tone, trying to sound monotonously, almost boring. He didn’t wish to startle his patient or knock him out of his trance.

“You have to eat, Will. I understand that the mere thought of the hospital food may be revolting. Why don’t you tell me what you’d like to eat and I see what I can do?”

It was like talking to a wall. No response. Not even the smallest sign that the man heard what was said to him. Not even the slightest flash of consciousness being hidden somewhere deep inside the man. Nothing.

Doctor Lecter looked through the window, searching for answers and the right questions. The sky was grey, completely devoid of colour and feelings, like an empty box. Winter was approaching. It hadn’t snowed, yet, but all the leaves had fallen, leaving the trees naked and exposed. It was getting colder every day; people wore more and more layers of clothing. Doctor Lecter understood both the comfort and the lack of it connected to the impending season. It was with the beginning of autumn when a lot of patients returned and often stayed during the winter. For some – nights by the candles, for others – days full of sorrow.

“Do you like reading, Will? Would you want me to bring you a book or a magazine, a newspaper?”

Another attempt left unanswered. There were only so many options before the doctor had to leave and return later. Doctor Lecter had been a psychiatrist too long to push the patient where there was no give. And he always had a surprising twist reserved for the most stubborn.

“Do you smoke, Will?” doctor Lecter asked, fishing for a packet of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket and ostentatiously taking it out.

Silence. With the last resort turning out to be a failure, doctor Lecter had no other option but to leave the blankets and leave the room.                                                          

 

“Well?”

“Well. We’ve treated similar cases. We need more time. He’ll open up.”

Doctor Lecter was sitting in the chair by doctor Chilton’s desk, browsing through his new patient’s record. Doctor Chilton was standing by the shelf, looking for something. Finally, he took a book with a faux-leather cover and a golden title. He skimmed it and placed it on the desk, in front of doctor Lecter.

“I wanted you to help me treat him because you’ve proved successful so far in similarly helpless cases.”

Doctor Lecter glanced at the book on the desk, then returned to Will’s file, trying to figure out an approach before he’d visit the patient again.

“You refer to the three women who, at some stage of their treatment, expressed feelings for me.”

Doctor Chilton smiled knowingly.

“I wanted to send doctor Bloom this time but Will manifested a particular brand of hostility and resentment towards the female staff.”

Lecter had already read about it in the file and was ready to leave the room, as he didn’t really like conversing with the administrator of the facility.

“I tested the waters. Now, we have to be patient and try to engage him,” doctor Lecter said and stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in.

“How do you intend to do that?”

“Well, since we work in an official facility, no unorthodox methods are allowed.”

“And were they allowed?” doctor Chilton asked.

Doctor Lecter didn’t respond. Instead, he took the newspaper lying on Chilton’s desk, tucked it under his arm and left the room.

 

Giving the patient time was necessary for the adjustment process. But Will was not showing any signs of even the slightest attempt to adjust.

The mutism could be fought with, if one recognised the cause. There were all sorts of reasons why the patients refused to speak, why human organism shut down and did not allow any access from the outside,

Doctor Lecter stopped in front of the door to Will’s room. There was a small plastic window in it through which the doctors could observe the patients without walking inside and possibly disturbing the inmate. Will had found a perfect hiding spot, as it wasn’t until someone came inside that Will became visible.

Doctor Lecter pulled the door and stepped inside. He found the blankets exactly where he’d left them, while Will continued to sit on the cold tiled floor. Lecter pulled up a chair and took a seat by the window.

“I want to talk to you about why you’re here,” the psychiatrist began, placing one leg over the other in an elegant pose and putting the newspaper on the windowsill. “You were found lying in a ditch, in the middle of nowhere, naked. Do you remember that? Do you remember how you got there?”

Nothing. Will remained turned towards the window, silent and unresponsive.

“Someone found you, called an ambulance. You haven’t spoken a word since. Whenever someone tries to touch you, you resort to aggression.”

No reaction still. Will kept looking in the distance, with a seemingly blank expression but no one could truly guess what was happening inside his head.

“They brought you here because all they could do was treat your external injuries while we can help you recover from whatever it is that destroys you from the inside.”

Will’s steady breathing continued. Doctor Lecter was beginning to think that it might be his most challenging case yet.

“I understand you went through a traumatic experience, something that paralysed you, something so horrific that made you hold your breath. Your inability to speak is just an effect of a mental block. I’m here to help y0u overcome this block, Will.”

The man did not seem to listen, let alone process what doctor Lecter was saying. But the psychiatrist had to go on. He could not give up, even on the least responsive patient. It was recommended to talk to the people in a coma. Will was in a far better shape.

“You know, Will, I don’t really know much about you. I don’t even know if your name is Will. It was only the name embroidered on the collar you had on your neck when you were found. Naked apart from the collar.”

It might have been only doctor Lecter’s imagination, his mind playing tricks on a poor man who desperately wanted to see something, but he could swear he saw the skin on Will’s left cheek twitch. It was the collar, then. The lead that he had to hold onto.

“It was pink, wasn’t it?” the psychiatrist teased. “Do you remember where you got it? Did someone give it to you? Someone put it on your neck?”

Nothing, again. Back to the thoughtless staring at the window. The sky was becoming darker even though it wasn’t that late. Lecter was wondering how long Will had been lying in that ditch before a family going on a trip to visit a grandma found him. It couldn’t have been that long.

It appeared funny to Lecter that being a psychiatrist entailed performing various roles. He had to be a nurse, a friend, a detective. The only hope was that the real detectives could figure out who Will was and what had happened to him before it was too late. For something. After all, why would a handsome young man be walking naked in a late fall in the middle of nowhere?

“I’ll go now. I’ll return to you in an hour or so. In the meantime, could you, please, put that blanket under your bum? Or sit on the bed. I know it may not appear too comfortable but you’ve spent too much time in the cold already, don’t you think?”

Doctor Lecter offered the warmest smile his face allowed but he knew Will did not see it, did not pay attention to him at all. And even the warmest smile could not replace a fluffy woollen blanket.

 

“Did the police call? Did they find anything new? I need something.”

“No. No. And I know. But I followed your session and have to congratulate you on being so patient. I envy you your tolerance of listening to people’s bullshit, but that’s nothing compared to your relentlessness in this case.”

“Usually, I had something at this point.”

“Have you considered he might be just pretending?”

Doctor Lecter frowned. He always took into consideration all possible options. Will’s case was no exception. But as he had stood there, by the door to Will’s room, he decided to cross out most of the diagnoses.

“Might have been a bachelor party gone wrong,” doctor Chilton suggested.

“You mean the collar.”

“You have to admit – it does sound plausible.”

Doctor Chilton looked at his watch.

“I have to go. I have a date.”

It was meant to be a boast, a comment thrown seemingly nonchalantly but actually acting as a pretext to elaborate on. Lecter did not express any interest and instead informed that he might make a last attempt later that evening.

“Don’t wear him out,” doctor Chilton winked as he left the room.

 

Doctor Lecter made a fruitless phone call to the police, which only made him more determined to help Will. He was curious if the man reached for the newspaper he’d left on the windowsill. Perhaps, he could repeat his trick with the cigarette. Perhaps he could act recklessly, without Chilton present in the hospital and with less staff working at night. He only had to wait.

He stepped out on a balcony at the end of the corridor, leant against the rails and looked down at the yard. It was empty; the weather and lack of patients made it all the more depressing. It was chilly and Lecter hadn't put on a coat so he had to hurry. Swiftly, he took out a cigarette and a lighter. The puff of smoke was in no way different from the usual puffs of air forming in the cold. Apart from the unpleasant scent.

Lecter thought of what doctor Chilton had suggested. He wondered if and why Will would be pretending to be mute and paralysed. The collar was not a proof of anything until there was a theory. Chilton's suggestion was the only one so far.

Could Will have been a victim of human trafficking? Could he have escaped an abusive household?

Lecter took another drag, shifting his weight on his left leg. The wind was increasing in force, the naked trees whooshed and hissed. The fire in the cigarette smouldered, making it slowly die out. Lecter threw the fag into the ashtray in the bin and walked back inside. The lights in the corridor were on, some of the staff already leaving. It was time for the nightly nurses to get to work.

Lecter pulled the door to Will's room and left it ajar. Everything was exactly how he remembered. He pushed the chair aside and sat down on the floor next to Will, like for the first time. He remained silent, mirroring his patient's behaviour. Then, after a moment, he took out the packet of cigarettes.

"Do you mind? I can share."

After receiving the usual silent treatment, which wasn’t exactly a negative, Lecter lit up a cigarette and smoked in silence which stretched unbearably but was a significant factor in Will’s process of adjustment and a way to gain his trust. The patient had to be treated fairly, friendly and sometimes had to be patronised. With as little information as Lecter had, he was compelled to try every option until one worked out.

He kept his arms outstretched and supported on his knees, bent in front of him, as he took another drag. The smoke released from his mouth formed most exquisite and abstract shapes. He watched it, hoping they could catch Will’s attention as well. They didn’t.

“How do I get you out of your head, Will?”

The question, like all previous attempts, remained unanswered. Lecter glanced at the blankets and sighed. He looked for something he could use as an astray but the patients were no allowed to smoke.

“I have to take care of this. Would you like to join me? You must be exhausted after the hours you’ve spent in one position and having the same boring view.”

Lecter stood up and offered his empty hand to Will. It was pointless. The man was not interested. Lecter squatted before his patient and watched.

“You know, Will, doctor Chilton thinks you’re just pretending. He thinks your mutism is an act. He wants to give you up to the police, let them take care of you,” doctor Lecter hoped to provoke his patient. That method often worked on people who simulated a mental illness. In could break a patient or force him to cooperate. Lecter suspected that the result, if not immediate, could be observed on the next day, when Chilton would visit Will.

“I want to help you, Will. Please, let me help you.”

With that, doctor Lecter put the burnt out cigarette on the newspaper still on the windowsill and reached out to touch one of Will’s wrists.


	2. Chapter 2

He met no resistance. Will didn’t blink, didn’t twitch, didn’t open his mouth. He only released his breath until his lungs were almost empty. Lecter waited two seconds before he withdrew his hand. He was relieved when he heard a sharp intake of air.

Lecter grabbed one of the blankets and unfolded it.

“I’ll put it over you, alright?”

When he heard no word of protest, doctor Lecter wrapped the blanket around Will. It was not enough, since Will’s bum was still glued to the cold floor, but it was something. That could have been the beginning of a successful treatment.

“Would you like me to stay with you a bit longer?”

This time, Will’s stomach responded by rumbling loudly. Lecter smiled.

“I think it’s time you ate something. Should I go to the kitchen or do you want to come with me?”

No response. However, Lecter noticed how Will’s eyes lingered a bit longer when he closed them as he blinked. The man was on the verge of falling asleep, which was good. Lecter imagined he could call for someone to move Will on the bed or at least high enough to place another blanket under his bum.

For the time being, the psychiatrist decided to stay and keep talking. He hoped he could lull Will into sleep even sooner. He took his place next to Will and spoke – slowly, in a low monotonous tone.

“I hope other patients don’t disturb you. There is more of them now than ever. Fall and winter are my busy seasons. People come here looking for help. Mostly mild cases of depression. There are also patients who stay permanently. Really terrible cases. It’s so sad. We really want to help them.”

Doctor Lecter kept sharing trivia of everyday life while observing his patient. So close to him and with a bright light coming from the ceiling, it was only then that Lecter noticed faded bruises and signs of wearing something tight around Will’s neck. It must have been the collar. Everything revolved around it.

Doctor Lecter felt bad for Will and hoped that the police would soon inform him of new evidence or a new theory. For the time being, he had to work with the little bits and pieces he managed to deduce.

Suddenly, the doctor realised that Will’s eyes were closed. The man’s breathing remained steady. He couldn’t have been asleep just yet but he was close. Doctor Lecter smiled and waited a moment longer. He was glad his patient finally gave in to his physical needs. Perhaps, in the morning, he would eat something. Hopefully, he’d speak.

Lecter shifted, attempting to stand up, when a hand clutched to his forearm. He turned to look at Will, whose eyes were wide open, full of terror and confusion.

“Will?”

Lecter settled on the floor again and covered Will’s hand with his own.

“I’ll stay,” the doctor whispered.

Will withdrew his hand and hid it under the blanket which looked like a cocoon. Seeing Will so vulnerable and horrified, Lecter decided not to try and trick him but rather be completely honest.

“Will, you’ll be more comfortable on the bed. I promise, I’ll stay. I’ll sit on the chair next to you and will be watching you the whole night.”

It was too late. Will turned towards the window and drifted off to his wonderland. Lecter was forced to re-evaluate his approach.

“I know you can hear me, Will. You listen to me. You’re not immobile. You’re scared, Will. Let me help you deal with that fear. Please, Will, sit on the bed. You don’t have to lie down. I only don’t want you to catch a cold. Can you do that?”

Nothing. He’d already lost him. Lecter wondered if Will had remembered something terrifying or if he was afraid to be left alone in the cold night, which compelled him to grasp the psychiatrist’s arm. Regardless, it was a sign of a consciousness trying to make its way out on the surface.

“Will you let me carry you?”

Doctor Lecter figured that it would be better if it was him who moved Will on the bed, instead of a strange orderly. He was determined to help his patient and had already gained some trust, not to mention he had found out Will was not a lost cause.

That night could have provided a breakthrough in Will’s case. Or at the very least could have led to one.

“I’m going to place one arm under your knees and the other on the small of your back. Is that alright?”

Lecter was slightly hesitant and unsure whether his actions were proper. He hoped that if Will resorted to a major act of aggression, someone would come to help.

Without even blinking, as to not to evoke more fear and confusion, doctor Lecter moved his left arm, exactly as he had said, under Will’s knees. The man did not protest. However, his head fell down; he was no longer staring at the window. Then, the psychiatrist placed his right arm over Will’s back and prayed to gods the man was light enough to lift.

Lecter couldn’t have been happier when his patient gave in, let himself be lifted and carried to the bed, all that almost effortlessly. Then, doctor Lecter felt Will’s head on his chest. The steady breathing tickled his neck. In the utter silence, he could hear Will’s slow tired heartbeat.

It had been a long day. Probably more than that in Will’s case.

“You’re safe now,” Lecter whispered as he laid down Will’s limp body on the bed. He then covered the man with two blankets.

Will’s eyes were wide open and directed at the ceiling. As promised, Lecter sat on the chair next to the bed.

He didn’t intend to stay. He planned to wait until Will fell asleep and leave. He hoped to spend the night in his own bed.

But as his eyelids felt heavier and heavier with every blink, there was no escape and no denying that he’d be the first one to drift off.

 

A buzzing sound was what woke doctor Lecter up. The door to the room opened and doctor Chilton stepped inside. He seemed well: smiling, no bags under his eyes. His date either had gone perfectly or he’d returned home and had a good night’s sleep. Nevertheless, he looked far better than Lecter. Smug, in addition to his usual unfriendly expression.

“I see you made progress. It’s good because there are some men here who have a few questions for Will.”

Lecter frowned and looked at the man on the bed. Will was awake and staring at the ceiling.

“Did you sleep?” the psychiatrist asked but got no reaction in response.

“He did,” Chilton announced loudly. “Apparently, you left the door open. A night nurse noticed and as she closed it, she saw Will’s eyes were closed.”

The explanation sounded more like an accusation. Lecter hadn’t suspected he’s fall asleep and someone would catch him playing dirty. He shouldn’t have left the door ajar. What had he expected? That Will would escape? Run away just like that?

“Come,” Chilton prompted. “Let’s leave Will for a moment.”

Doctor Lecter called for a nurse and asked her to bring Will something to drink and eat. Then, he left the room, but stopped in the corridor, not following doctor Chilton any further.

“He can’t be investigated. You can’t let any policeman inside,” Lecter reasoned.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not speaking,” doctor Lecter exclaimed desperately. “They won’t get anything out of him and will only ruin whatever I’ve achieved so far.”

Chilton gazed at Lecter with attention and suspicion. Nurses and a few patients passed them, not minding their conversation. The clock was ticking on the wall. Everything seemed annoying and chaotic. Then, Chilton took a step closer to doctor Lecter, close enough to whisper and be heard.

“You know, I often wonder why you rejected all those women. You live alone, work very hard, almost too hard, some would say. When you do leave the hospital, you write articles for psychiatric journals. The rest is silence. Don’t get me wrong, I admire what you do with and for these people. But there is simply something so odd about you.”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“I wouldn’t dare. Only pointing out that you’re not as sly as you may have thought.”

A moment of silent confrontation followed. Lecter had no idea where this was going but he didn’t like being scrutinised and judged by people who didn’t know him. Evidently, Chilton had no arguments and was only trying to scare Lecter. A threat with no cover was not a real threat. Doctor Lecter smiled humbly.

“Let me be in the room.”

Chilton nodded, agreeing to Lecter’s plea. As Lecter turned and was about to return to Will’s room, he heard his name called out.

“Hannibal! You may want to know that we obtained his blood test results.”

Lecter’s eyes widened. The man was anxious and impatient to know the results.

“They found traces of mind-altering substances in his bloodstream. He had been exposed to a perception disorder under the influence of a fair amount of drugs.”

Doctor Lecter nodded in acknowledgement. He was certain Chilton had mentioned his theory of a bachelor party gone wrong to the policemen and supported it with the results. But why did no one look for Will?

Hannibal stepped inside Will’s room and stopped by the window. He looked at the people running away and searching for a place to hide because it just started raining.

“Are you lonely, Will? Do you have anyone waiting for you out there?”

Hannibal listened to the silence answering him before the door opened and two officers walked in. Lecter shook the men’s hands as he introduced himself, then sat in the chair by the window. He didn’t want to disturb the interview, merely listen to the questions and intervene if necessary.

As expected, the interview didn’t last long, since the patient continued to lie still, staring at the ceiling, mute. Doctor Lecter explained the particulars of Will’s condition and asked the policemen to come back when the patient would become responsive. He offered to see the men off, hoping to get some answers but it turned out that no one had reported Will to be missing and the police had yet to identify the man. So far, he had been a John Doe.

“What about the collar? It seems as if he might have been chocked with it. And have you searched the area? He might have-”

“We know how to do our job, doctor Lecter, as we’re sure you know how to do yours.”

“Certainly.”

Hannibal was again left with little information and an unpleasant feeling in his gut. He glanced at Will through the small plastic window in the door. If he found out where exactly the man was found, he could go there himself and search for any people living in the neighbourhood. Someone must have seen something. Then again, it was not his place to act. He was starting to believe that he got too involved in something that could turn out out of his depth.

With that discouraging thought in mind, Hannibal decided to go home and return later for his shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope to post the next chapter on Friday but i make no promises


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank You to everyone who has expressed interest so far ^^ i hope i manage to keep the story going and  
> let's hear Will's long awaited voice!

The wind was strong. It pushed the branches of the trees and threatened to break them. There were no more leaves to fall but the naked trees hissed as they were moved by the wind. The gray sky turned darker, with clear outlines of clouds. It was going to rain again. After an hour or so of pause, the water would try to wash away the streets.

Hannibal made himself coffee and settled comfortably on his sofa. He turned on the TV and let it play as he tried to do a crossword. By the third answer, his mind was wandering. The image of a handsome young man with medium long curly hair haunted him.

“Who are you?” Hannibal asked himself unconsciously. He glanced at the TV, changed the channel to some local news and waited. Nothing. The weather forecast warned against leaving the windows open and encouraged to stay home. It would continue to pour for the next few hours. Fortunately, Hannibal had nowhere to go. His shift wouldn’t start until late afternoon.

Hannibal closed his eyes and put his head back. For a while, the whole world disappeared. The sounds of rain was muffled by the TV, the drops hitting the windowsills, like shots in the woods. Unclear, loud and scary.

Hannibal wondered if rain had caught Will as he was walking naked in the middle of nowhere.

He was distracted. His mind was busy analysing everything that was not important at the moment.

Lecter opened his eyes and moved to his study. He found plenty of papers, essays and articles with highlighted passages and underlined words. The notes on the margins were easy to spot and played a significant role. Hannibal glanced at what he had already written – with a pencil on a piece of paper – before he opened his laptop.

As he typed the password and waited for the system to wake, his eyes wandered all over the room. He remembered he was supposed to clean up the place, get rid of some old books and finally organise his notes. There were bits and pieces on small sticky notes that he had to put in order and make use of. His recent work was half-way done but if he sat down to it, he could finish it even that afternoon.

As he got down to work, composed his thoughts and started typing, his phone rang. It was Alana. Hannibal took a deep breath and answered.

“Yes?”

“You need to come to the hospital. Now.”

“Give me twenty minutes.”

Without hesitation, Hannibal turned off the laptop, grabbed the most necessary things and left the house. It was pouring and he could barely see through the drops hitting forcefully against the windscreen.

As he got to the hospital, expecting a disaster, he rushed to doctor Bloom’s office. On his way, he passed the corridor where Will’s room was and saw Alana talking to one of the nurses. Hannibal sprang to the colleague.

“Hannibal! So good you’re here,” Alana tapped the nurse on the shoulder, telling her she could go.

“What is it?”

“Will. When you left, he was given something to eat and drink. And some pills.”

Lecter’s face went pale. He expected news of Will’s outburst of aggression.

“It was worth a shot. Though, he didn’t take any. I was on my way to one of my patients when I saw his lips moving. I entered his room; an orderly wanted to stop me, said Will was aggressive towards women. But I walked in and he kept still, lying in his bed, and his lips were moving. He’s been whispering your name. So I called you immediately.”

“Good.”

Hannibal bit his lip. It was a good sign. He gained the patient’s trust. Now, he could use it.

“Hannibal…we don’t know who he is and what he wants from you, so, please, be careful.”

“What do you mean? He’s my patient. He’s a patient.”

“Alright. Go. He needs you.”

Alana placed a reassuring hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, something that could have been called her brand gesture. She always wanted to comfort people and keep everyone away from danger.

Lecter offered a smile and walked away, towards Will’s room. As he glanced through the window in the door, he saw the man’s lips moving gently, his eyes focused on the ceiling. Hannibal couldn’t help but think that the man was handsome and wondered how it could be that no one had yet reported him missing. No girlfriend or boyfriend, no mother, no colleague. No one worried enough to call the police. Lecter started doubting Will was even from that state.

He stepped inside and was immediately taken aback by how soft his name sounded in Will’s mouth. It was barely audible, a mere whisper, but in an utterly silent room, it was loud and clear, like a scream from the top of a mountain. It rang in Hannibal’s ears.

“Lecter… Lecter… Lecter…”

“You can call me Hannibal,” Lecter proposed as he sat in the chair by the bed.

The voice was gone. Will’s lips remained open but he stopped whispering. Instead, his pupils shifted and were now focused on the psychiatrist. Lecter stared straight into the blue depth stained with green and yellow, and noticed the wet spots under Will’s eyes. The man had been crying.

“What happened, Will?”

Hannibal touched the blanket covering the man’s arm and squeezed.

“Did the memories come back?”

Will looked away.

“You have to communicate with me, Will. You called, I came. I’m here. I’m with you. You’re safe.”

Hannibal followed Will’s eyes right through the window. The rain carried on, undisturbed by people’s suffering. It would be like that every day for the next week, that was what they said on TV.

“I have an idea. You don’t have to speak, if you don’t want to or if you find yourself unable to. But you can nod. Or blink.”

Lecter was aware that solution offered him only answers to yes or no questions but it was a start. He didn’t think he could afford waiting until the man spoke. He wanted to help Will, help the man deal with his trauma but without any knowledge about it, all he could do was guess. Shots in the dark were usually unsuccessful and a hit was due to an enormous amount of good luck. Hannibal felt he didn’t have that.

“We can try it out right away. I’ll ask you a question and you’ll either nod or blink. Would that be alright?”

Will looked at Hannibal again and quickly blinked twice.

“I take it as a yes,” Hannibal smiled warmly and imagined he must have looked radiant. Finally, a step forward. With any luck, he could get to the bottom of Will’s case before the police would. At that point, Lecter made a mental note to make a call and find out if there was any progress.

“Alright. We’ll start with the basics. Is your name Will?”

Two eyelids fluttered in confirmation.

“Do you live in this state? Oh, do you know where you are?”

Blinked twice, a pause, and repeated.

“Do you remember what happened before you were found and brought here?”

Will looked away. Hannibal cursed himself for getting too excited too quickly. He could only discourage Will from speaking if the man felt unsafe and was constantly made aware of the fact that he couldn’t remember anything. Then, it hit Lecter – there could have been a different explanation, one that also included tears. That possibility was why he needed to get Will to speak. So far, everyone had been guessing.

“Will…do you remember but don’t feel ready to talk about it?” Hannibal had to resort to kindness and patience, and repair what he had ruined.

This time, Will turned to look at Lecter and nodded. His eyes were still wet, his lips limp. Hannibal nodded in return, acknowledging that he understood Will’s unwillingness to speak and that he would not push. There was another issue bothering him – should he tell Chilton? If he did, and if doctor Chilton decided to push Will, it could end in a disaster. There must have been a reason Will opened up, at least partly, to Lecter, why he didn’t want to talk, not just yet. Hannibal wondered if the person or persons who did this to Will were still after him.

“Do you feel safe here?”

Will seemed to ponder on the question. Finally, he nodded.

“Do you want something to drink? I can fetch a straw so you won’t have to get up.”

Will’s eyes shifted to look at the glass of water by the bed. He must have been thirsty. Unbearably so. When he locked gaze with Hannibal, the psychiatrist knew the answer and knew he won. Water was just the first step. Then, there would be food, then some games, perhaps a few linguistic tests, and then, Will would speak.

Hannibal winced mentally for getting his hopes up again, as he watched Will support himself on his elbows and lifting his body just enough to have a sip of water. Hannibal brought the glass closer to Will’s lips and observed with unnatural fascination how his patient drank.

Will blinked a few times when he was done so that Lecter could put away the glass.

“Would you like to eat something as well?”

“No,” Will whispered, his voice harsh and tired. The man cleared his throat and tried again. “No. Thank you.”

Lecter nodded, genuinely surprised and astounded by the man’s voice. It was hoarse, rough like the hands of a miner. But it was clear, attractive and somewhat heavy. It rang in Hannibal’s ears and wouldn’t go away, like a pomegranate’s aftertaste. It was a far cry from the soft way Will had called out Lecter’s name before.

“Do you need anything else?” Hannibal asked.

Suddenly, Will moved his arm from under the blanket and placed it on the woollen piece of fabric. At the same time, he looked away, towards the window, where the rain continued and the sky was getting darker.

Someone knocked on the door behind Hannibal. The psychiatrist turned and saw doctor Chilton. It was like a thunder in the storm; the rain was annoying enough.

“I need to leave you for a moment. I’ll be back soon,” Hannibal assured and left the room.

“What are you doing here?” doctor Chilton asked and turned, slowly walking towards his office. Hannibal was compelled to follow.

“I was called in.”

“By whom?”

“By a patient.”

Chilton blinked, then smiled in a truly unpleasant way. He opened the door to his office and ushered Hannibal inside. Chilton took his seat behind his desk, while Lecter sat opposite him.

“I admire your dedication. There are not many doctors like you. And I mean it in a nice way, although there are also downsides of being so devoted.”

“The sooner we know what is wrong with him, the sooner he leaves the facility. I thought that was the idea,” Lecter defended himself.

“The idea is not to undermine other doctor’s work here,” Chilton exclaimed, visibly enraged. He took a deep breath and leant against the desk. “You said something to him, placed a silly reckless accusation in his mind, hoping he’d react.”

Hannibal sighed, relieved. He remembered his little trick of repeating to Will what Chilton had said. He smiled, proud of himself, in the least appropriate moment.

“I listen. If not with my own ears, then with someone else’s.”

“You mean the hidden microphones?”

Chilton blushed. He seemed furious. Then, as he calmed down, he smiled.

“I like you. You’re probably the only other person here who can think. Quite reasonably, too.”

“Let me be unreasonable for a moment and quote a self-declared bright person. ‘The idea is not to undermine other doctors here’.”

Chilton’s laugh sounded terrible, most probably because it was fake and forced. He was trying to play the smart one but was quickly becoming the loser in his own game.

“It would be sad to see someone so good at what they do have to look for a different occupation. And I hate parting with people who truly care. The only thing I require is cooperation.”

“I think a better term would be obedience.”

“Look. There are patients here in far worse conditions than your Will. Personally, I stand by my theory of a bachelor party ending badly. The police does not even contact us anymore. It’s silent. But I can write down Will’s case under your projects and we can proceed with our lives. Just…don’t let him manipulate you.”

“He’s not-”

“And don’t fuck him at the end of the day.”

Hannibal was offended by the vulgar and false accusation. He clenched his teeth, then replied.

“He’s a patient, like any other. I’ll treat him, make him speak, find out who he is and what happened. Then, he’ll leave. Then, another one will come. And another one. And another after him. Let me do my job. And get rid of those microphones for your own sake. I’m surprised the cops didn’t find them when they came to question Will.”

“I’ll take it as one professional’s advice to another,” Chilton concluded and looked at the door, indicating that the conversation was over and Hannibal was to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why Chilton just has to be a dick but he is :/


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal went to the canteen. He sat down with a cup of coffee and a turmoil in his head. An odd craving for a cigarette took over his mind but he refrained from stepping outside for now. The rain and the wind would not allow for a smoke anyway.

Lecter nodded and smiled whenever someone passed him and greeted him but he appeared absorbed so no one decided to stick around. The psychiatrist could enjoy a moment of relative peace. He wondered if he should go home. His shift was hours away. He wondered if he was truly acting strange and foolish, trying to figure out a man who hadn’t asked for it. All he ever wanted was to help people and now he was being warned against being used, manipulated. Was he blind to something so obvious that everyone except him saw? Was he being naïve?

Then, Hannibal remembered Chilton’s words. ‘The police does not even contact us anymore. It’s silent.’ There must have been a reason why no one reported Will missing, why no one looked for him. And there was a reason why didn’t want to talk. Lecter realised that by the time he asked the last question, Will had spotted Chilton through the door and refused to continue their conversation. So there was that. Perhaps it was Hannibal’s own fault because he had tried to turn Will against Chilton. Sort of.

The craving for a cigarette did not go away, did not even fade. Lecter was compelled to have a smoke but there were not many options. The rain continued and it was technically forbidden to smoke in the facility. At least during the day. With Chilton present in the building and listening, probably also watching. Hannibal decided he’d take care of the microphone in Will’s room. He was aware it would enrage Chilton but maybe that way he could make Will open up. At night, with less staff and the desires and fears becoming more real, Will might just find the strength to speak.

Until then, Hannibal decided to focus on other patients and on taking more notes for his new article.

 

Around eight, Hannibal saw Alana and then Chilton leave the hospital. It was dark outside so Lecter read by the desk lamp. He consulted his psychiatry journals and other colleagues’ papers on selective mutism, the causes and results of that condition. When he was sure the facility was occupied only by nightly nurses and two other doctors, called out only in emergencies, Hannibal left his office. He strolled along the corridor, checking on every patient through the plastic windows in the doors. Most of them were asleep, some were reading and a few indulged in day dreaming while looking at the indigo sky. The stars were bright and there were no clouds, which promised a beautiful next day.

Hannibal peeked through the window in the door to Will’s room and then checked if anyone was watching him. It appeared ridiculous. As he walked inside, he made sure to close the door as quietly as he could and said nothing. Instead, he looked around the room, bent and squatted by the bed, near the vent and by the window, looking for a small hidden mic. He frowned when he found none. It must have been either placed so that no one could possibly find it or removed already, after Lecter told Chilton to get rid of it.

In that case, Hannibal decided to proceed unobstructed by fear that he might say something and be fired for it. He sat in the usual chair and looked at Will. His patient had his eyes closed, his whole body safe under the blanket. Lecter wondered if the man had finally fallen asleep. The answer came sooner than expected.

“Under the bed,” Will divulged.

With a smile, Hannibal reached under the bed, felt every surface, every inch and, finally, found it: a small device that could ruin his career and violate the doctor-patient confidentiality agreement. Lecter threw it on the ground and crushed it under his shoe. One problem gone.

“Thank you.”

With a sigh, Will supported himself on his elbows and gazed at his doctor from a half-sitting position.

“So can we talk now? Will you tell me how you got here?”

Will rose even more on the bed, bent his knees and brought them close to his chin. He wrapped his arms around his legs and seemed to be withdrawing deep inside himself.

“If I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how to help you. I need to have something to focus on, a source.”

“Isn’t violence always a source?” Will whispered shyly.

“It frequently is.”

Will looked through the window, focused, as if he was trying to count the stars.

“Do you feel safe here?” Hannibal asked. He believed that in a safe environment his patients would recover faster. He needed to make sure they were treated with kindness and always listened to when they needed to speak. Until Will uttered the first word, Hannibal was lost.

A nod was the reply. Now, Hannibal could work his magic.

“Are you afraid to be let out?”

The usual silence answered him. Will was like jigsaw puzzles of millions pieces and Hannibal had only started.

“I’m afraid what might happen out there.”

Finally, Hannibal believed he was getting somewhere. Even with the long pauses, Will could speak.

“Do you have something particular in mind? Or is it fear of the outside world in general?”

Will turned his head to look at the psychiatrist. It seemed like the conversation was draining all the energy of Will. His lips were chapped, eyes bloodshot, and the tears were drying on his cheeks. He sounded like he was unused to speaking, but at least now he spoke.

“I need your help,” Will cried. Tears appeared in the corner of his eyes and threatened to spill. His voice was breaking. Hannibal was sure the man would not say anything else that night.

“I will help you.”

Lecter reached out and touched his patient’s forearm. Will winced but then gave in to the touch. He placed his cheek against Hannibal’s hand and sniffled. Lecter shifted in his seat. He wanted to be closer. Quietly and swiftly, Hannibal moved so that he sat on Will’s bed.

“Is there someone looking for you?”

Will waited a moment before he raised his head and looked up at Lecter. He didn’t seem startled by the proximity.

“I’m not insane. I’m just scared.”

“I know. I know,” Hannibal assured as he gently moved his hand up and down Will’s hand, rubbing it reassuringly. Soon, he felt goose bumps under his palm.

“Will you…can you take me there?”

Hannibal frowned, not comprehending the plea. Was he supposed to let Will out of the facility? Well, Chilton would be glad. And there was no way anyone would search for Will after he left. There was only the small issue of getting fired for letting a patient go, a possibly unstable patient.

“I thought that maybe if I went there, I’d remember,” Will continued.

“Yes, yes, that’s one of the techniques used in- But I thought you remembered?”

“I only remember how it made me feel, not what actually happened,” Will explained.

Lecter nodded and withdrew his hand. He stood up and approached the window. It was dark, cold, the rain was persistent. If he was supposed to only get Will inside his car, drive him to the ditch where he’d been found, and then return with the man, he could do that. But he had to fetch some warm clothes and disappear for quite some time from the hospital. Not to mention that Will would not see anything in the dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere. There was no way he’d remember.

“Have you ever…done something so wrong that you wanted to forget?”

Will’s voice reached Hannibal, who blinked and considered himself unmasked. Then, with a frown, he turned towards Will still sitting on the bed.

“Is that what this is? Do you not remember because you chose not to?”

Will didn’t reply. He only stared at Lecter, trying to find the answer to his own question. Hannibal believed that whatever conversation was taking place between them, it always seemed to be happening on the surface but was truly resolved underneath. It was the silence, the pauses, the gazes and the touch that affirmed.

“Why do you do this? Why are you so kind? Why do you genuinely try to help people?”

The question sounded on point. It was something Hannibal had neglected to ponder on and remind himself of. The answer belonged to history and rather the dark side of it. Lecter believed it would forever be left unarticulated and safe in the unconscious. The question made him sick. He realised he was thirsty and craved a cigarette. That seemed to be the end of their session for the day.

“No one has ever been so nice to me. I only wanted to know if you were sincere about it or just pretending.”

Hannibal rubbed his forehead and led an internal battle with himself. Then, he returned to sit in the usual chair by the bed, took out the packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Watch the door, will you?” Hannibal asked Will and put the cigarette between his lips.

Will nodded and for the rest of their conversation his eyes were shifting from doctor Lecter to the door.

“I thought I made myself clear when I told you what doctor Chilton believes. I thought that getting rid of the mic…that everything I’ve done so far, even though selfless, would prove that I have good intentions. There’s really no reason why anyone here would _pretend_ to care for you.”

“But of all these people, you were the one to return to me and keep trying.”

“I’m your doctor.”

“Do you believe what doctor Chilton believes? Do you think it was a stupid incident, a party gone wrong or a bet?”

Lecter exhaled slowly while gazing at Will. The man was suddenly so talkative. And he appeared smart, predictive.

“It’s not an issue of faith. There is an answer to your situation. There is a reason, a cause for this effect.”

“Will you help me find it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the next one will be the last


	5. Where to?

It was neither as easy or as difficult as Hannibal had expected. With fewer people in the building it was easier to sneak out. Hannibal smuggled a change of clothes from his office which he kept in case of emergencies. He was glad he’d done that. It proved useful after all.

Lecter waited by the door while Will changed. Then, the men arranged the pillows on the bed in a way that would resemble a human shape. It was the oldest trick in the world. When everything was ready, Hannibal led the way to the canteen, if anyone asked, but at the last turn, he moved towards the back door. There were no cameras there to prove that Lecter disappeared in the middle of his shift. He could only hope that there were no incidents that night with other patients.

Will was about to follow Hannibal to his car outside when Lecter stopped him abruptly. The rain. If they returned later with their hair wet, someone was bound to figure out that doctor Lecter allowed his patient to go out. Hannibal looked around for an umbrella by the entrance and was glad to find one. With an umbrella over his head, Will was now ready to make the few steps towards the car.

On their way, Hannibal focused on the steady rhythm of raindrops against the windscreen. The air appeared fresh but it was chilly and the heating would take a while before it started working.

“Do you know where they found me?” Will asked, interrupting the rain.

“More or less. I know which road to take. You won’t be able to recognise the exact place since it’s dark but I suppose ditches do not differ very much from one another.”

When Will didn’t reply Hannibal feared what he’d said sounded wrong. He sensed, more than saw, Will turn his head towards the window and drown in silence again.

“You asked me if I was trying to atone for something,” Hannibal began hesitantly and waited for his patient’s reaction. He didn’t want to reveal anything damning if his listener wasn’t really interested.

Will’s eyes shifted from the roadside to Hannibal’s hands on the wheel.

“I know you are. You saw yourself in me – that’s why you want to help me so desperately.”

“Is that why you trust only me? What dark secrets do we share?”

Will smirked, turning back to look to his right, at the trees emerging from the dark. The scenery was monotonous, with forest on both sides, cut with the sign of civilization – the road. No streetlamps. Hannibal drove slowly, watching the road reflect the car’s lights. It was wet, shiny.

Suddenly, Will put his hand on one of Lecter’s.

“Stop right here.”

Hannibal glanced into the rear-view mirror, turned on hazard lights, and pulled over.

“Are you alright?”

Will stared ahead, his body numb. He placed his hands on his thighs and remained silent. There was something terrifying in the way he looked, suddenly emotionally drained and deprived of liveliness he’d manifested a mere minute before. It was again the Will Hannibal had met for the first time.

“Will? Talk to me. Tell me what you remember. Tell me what you see.”

Will smiled shyly. He didn’t face Hannibal when he spoke.

“What if doctor Chilton was right? What if you’ve done all this for nothing? What if I’m not insane or broken or… What if I didn’t belong to your little world in the first place?”

Hannibal seemed helpless.

“Is that true? Have you really been acting the whole time? Why?”

“Do you care? A bet, if you need an answer.”

Lecter closed his eyes, defeated. He’d been manipulated, tricked into caring for the man who only ever needed his devotion and naivety. Will opened the passenger’s door and was ready to leave, when Hannibal’s voice stopped him.

“I can take you home,” he offered through gritted teeth.

“I’d rather you didn’t. Forget me.”

Hannibal watched Will exit the car and take a few steps in the light of Hannibal’s car.

“Will!” Hannibal opened the door on his side and yelled after the man. “At least take the umbrella.”

Will turned, smiled and returned for the umbrella. Hannibal waited for a moment, watching the man go. He couldn’t bring himself to drive away. Shame took over him. He’d been blind when even Chilton warned him. All he ever wanted was to help Will.

Hannibal couldn’t think straight. He didn’t question Will’s explanation, only felt betrayed.

After a moment, he turned the car around and headed for the hospital. But something deep under the surface wouldn’t let him go. He’d already had Will’s image rooted in his brain under the label “protect.” He couldn’t leave the man in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a rainy night. Shaking his head and cursing himself for his stupidity, Hannibal turned the car again and returned for Will.

Despite the darkness and the unchanging scenery, Hannibal managed to find the exact place where he’d let Will go. He drove further, hoping to find Will quite easily but after a hundred meters all he saw was an empty road. He almost missed a turn right and a path leading deep into the forest. Somehow, it appeared suspicious to Hannibal. He turned right, hoping to find Will or at least make up a plausible version of events.

It didn’t take long before he saw the man under his umbrella.

“Will!” Hannibal yelled through the open window of his door. Raindrops attacked his face but it didn’t discourage him. “Will!”

The man didn’t turn to look at Hannibal but Lecter was certain it was his former patient. He stopped the car and, without turning off the lights, he got out. Upon approaching the man, he noticed that the path was a long one, leading deep into to the forest. Where exactly was Will headed?

“Will…”

Finally, Will turned, obviously annoyed and terrified.

“Why won’t you let me go? I told you there is nothing wrong with me. No need to care for a man who was virtually never there.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just leave me be,” Will pleaded, his voice breaking. Then, with the remaining shreds of hope, he added, “Unless you really want to help.”

“Of course I do.”

Hannibal reached out, inviting Will to get back in the car. He was offering a lift and promising no judgement. They hadn’t known each other even for a week, yet Hannibal was ready and determined to act as the only steady island on the ocean of confusion.

“I will. If you’re honest with me this time.”

Will entered the car and waited before he could speak.

“We agreed you are atoning for something you did in the past. You saw something in me and was certain we share a dark secret. What is yours?”

“’Show you mine if you show me yours’ deal?”

Will nodded. The rain persisted as Hannibal began his story.

“I had a friend when I was young. We used to ride through a forest near our neighbourhood. We’d get to the meadow, abandon our bikes on the grass and lie down next to them. We’d talk and talk, for hours, about everything. I loved talking about my dreams. I loved listening to his.”

A pause was necessary because the images of long-forgotten events suddenly appeared behind Hannibal’s eyes. He remember things he’d tried to forget and succeeded. Now, it was painful and surreal – saying the words, telling a story that had happened but was buried so deep in Lecter’s mind, like a faded photograph, almost impossible to make out.

“One time, we were riding along the edge of a cliff, with a river down there. My friend saw a bridge in the distance and wanted us to cross it. As we approached it, it turned out to be an old contraption. I said we should go further, that we shouldn’t walk over the bridge. But he was braver than me.”

“More stupid, you mean?”

“I was ashamed of myself when I saw him take every step carefully, one foot in front of the other. Then, I heard something crack. I didn’t register the moment he fell, only the moment his spine was broken in two.”

Will frowned. His hands seemed to make the decision before his brain did when he placed one of his palms on Hannibal’s forearm.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have stopped him. I shouldn’t have been impressed with him. I shouldn’t have watched his body be carrier by the river with such…calm.”

Hannibal sighed heavily. That confession required a lot of strength and courage. He ascended deep inside his mind and excavated his most terrifying memory. However, as he looked at Will, he didn’t seem exhausted either mentally or physically. He smiled, reassuringly, expecting a counterbalancing confession.

“I’m an exclusive prostitute. I was. Until a few nights before, when my client decided to breach the agreement between us. She was ready to violate me, even after I explicitly told her I didn’t want to go on. We fought. She wouldn’t listen.”

Hannibal wondered if he should deduce the rest or if Will was going to tell the story to the end. Any assumptions could be wrong. Any wrong assumptions could be deadly.

“I…”

Will looked at his hands, blinking, as if he’d just relived the horrible events of the faulty night. Hannibal blinked, too. He was torn between getting out of the car, running away as fast and far as possible, and embracing Will. The comfort he’d desired to offer didn’t seem so comforting anymore. Suddenly, Will appeared stronger than ever before.

“I didn’t want to kill her.”

“You were defending yourself.”

The men’s voices were deep, pervading the air in the limited space of the car. They were the voices of men who were broken but who refused to be ruined, of men who had found out about their strength in the worst way possible.

“I wasn’t pretending,” Will stated when the silence stretched out too long.

“I know.”

“I was petrified when… It was only later that I wrapped my head around it.”

Hannibal nodded and took one of Will’s hands. He stroked the skin, offering a reassuring touch, then felt his hand grabbed and squeezed in a silent understanding.

“Do you still want to help me?”

Hannibal started the engine in the car.

“Where to, Will?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and then, they got rid of the body and pretended nothing had ever happened.
> 
> Oh, and they probably got together.


End file.
